


So shame on me now

by Costumebleh



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Dad 76, Everyone worries about Hana, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gift for snowsheba cuz she be 1 year older, Healthy platonic and family relationships, This is the most family-centered thing I have ever written, hana-centric, keep me from this family-centered heartbreaking headcanon it makes me do things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-23 01:22:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8308300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Costumebleh/pseuds/Costumebleh
Summary: For a girl that is basically paid for expressing her emotions on screen, Hana has a rather difficult time with it when it comes to her rag-tag family.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Snowsheba](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowsheba/gifts).



> Aka. The birthday gift that Snowsheba deserves for creating the tear-inducing and hearbreaking fic that is "thanks, dad. love, hana", thank you for our odd friendship that is partly based on how much we can ridicule these silly characters, happy belated derpday! love you!

It’s through the never-ending stretches of night-time that Hana finds herself once again in an odd position on the couch of the common room. Her headset is luckily fit to stick to her head, otherwise it might’ve tumbled to the floor several minutes ago. Her keyboard is awkwardly poised against her vertical lap, whereas her fingers are idly tapping away without a care.

Her stream isn’t really doing much at the moment, a lazy round of some kind of platformer that the chat had voted for her to play, seems like she wasn’t the only one that wanted some sort of breather from her usual more energetic and erratic gaming experiences. She could’ve probably done it with her eyes closed – whereas in this case, upside down.

Her hair was tied into a messy knot by her neck such as she tends to do when she doesn’t have any cam on, dressed simply in her sleepwear for comfort. There was little that she has to do to keep up with her persona when she really only needs to sound excited and eager when the camera is turned off, so it’s all good.

Oddly enough, the rise of blood to her head doesn’t serve to increase her ability to game at all, there’s only a slight sense of vertigo as she passes to the next level. Even though the time zones are a little out of whack when she streams, there’s plenty of activity in her fan-base within the chat.

With her being the newcomer in Overwatch, there’s aplenty of people trying to pry her for info, though her moderators tend to get rid of them before they become increasingly stubborn, so that’s all taken care of. Even if the occasional taunt or aggressive note manages to sneak through her defences, she just ignores them and instead addresses the other members with more legit questions.

Actually, with mostly respectful fans at present, nattering amongst themselves over what she should do next or about _this cheat_ or that hidden _Easter egg_ , it’s almost calming to stream. 

“Level 33, huh.” She remarks casually, swinging her feet over the back of the couch. She, just maybe, might want to change position soon, because Hana just realized that the feeling in her legs is slowly wearing away. Her voice is slightly eerie in the quiet of the living room and she’s starting to regret setting up here when it’s so late, like sure, the couch is _slightly_ nicer to sit and game from, but the sense of isolation within the dark base isn’t really helping her keep focus on the stream.

A few rather unwelcome memories of the same disassembling silence are pressing foremost in behind her eyelids when she blinks, whereas Hana shakes her head and rightens her position to focus on the mobs within the game. It’s not really helping and she accidentally vaults over the edge of a moving platform, much to the disapproval of her fans.

“Sorry guys, think I might be a bit more tired than I thought, I’ll need a break and then we’ll get right back to it.” With that, she taps one button on the keyboard, efficiently pausing the stream and setting up so that the notifications of the chat is silenced.

The only problem now is, what can help remove the creeping feeling down her spine? None of the others are awake at this hour, even the slightly unstable pair of Junkers have probably gone back to their rooms.

Without really thinking about it much, she peels off her headset to place it onto the arm of the couch as she rises to saunter around base. Her mind – her sense of self, is stuck somewhere else than the darkened corridors of Gibraltar base. With her fingers running along the length of the wall to her imminent right, she sees herself somewhere less calm.

Like an unbidden TV-channel, Hana’s past regrets and plagues tune in and she sees herself – seated, as ever proudly in her mecha, gunning down innocents.

_Stop it_. Her conscious tells her mind. _You can_ _’_ _t change it._

She pauses, somewhere within the maze of corridors, leaning heavily onto the wall. Her hand ghosts over the wound she received a while back, a nasty piece of rubble having decided to stick itself into her gut. Even with the ever precise and careful work of Angela, there was others that needed her help more at the time and with Hana’s reassurances of “Yes I’m fine, I’ll _be_ fine with some sleep.”  the wound is still only close to being a full scar. It itches and now that her mind isn’t really all _there,_ there’s a dull throb that reminds her of her irregular habit of forgetting to take the meds that Angela prescribed her.

With a huff, she rubs her hand over her eyes, hoping to purge the imagery a little by waking up. But even with her best efforts, her vision is still clouded with the illusions her tired mind brought forth, though she finds herself more able to discern them from reality.

When the whooshing of a door opening sounds somewhere behind her, she startles. Uncertain as to exactly who could’ve found her in this _damn pathetic_ state of mind. She shortly considers bolting ahead, but knows that she’ll only aggravate her wound further as her hand press against the fabric covering the sore tissue.

 “Hana?” comes the inevitable inquiry, the voice easily discernible with the soft accent formed around the words.

Without turning around, Hana tries to let a cheery “Hey Satya!” resound from somewhere within the knot churning in her chest. She doesn’t want her friends to see her like this, as if she’s weak and pathetic and unable to take care of herself.

_Like a child_ , her mind whispers.

And while 76 or Angela might’ve been worst case scenario when it came to finding her almost passed out in the hallway, Satya is a close second on the list of people she didn’t really want to run into in this state.

But here she is, undoubtedly noticing the stiffness in Hana’s shoulders as her posture is slightly coiled inwards. Attempting to – while it didn’t truly do much – lessen the pressure on her wound.

It’s a complementary silence that’s settled, making Hana unsure if she should try and actually say anything more, but no, her pause has probably given enough away and if she starts rambling she’ll undoubtedly be uncovered.

Expecting a lecture, a hand instead gently falls to pry her hand away from the wound. She hadn’t even noticed that Satya had come any closer but her mind is probably too high-strung with memories and panic that she’s lost the connection to some of her senses.

“Why don’t we go into my room?” There’s an underlying addition of; _before anyone else sees you_. But Hana complies, permitting the taller woman to intertwine her fingers with hers and lead them both back into the dimly lit room.

Upon entry, Satya palms up the intensity of the lamps overhead, bringing them to a more comfortable glow that permits Hana to survey the quarters of her teammate. Not that she hasn’t been in there before, but a few things have seemingly changed since the last time Lena had dragged all the female – with the occasional male teammate, because why not – into their rooms for a _girls-night._

She’s guided to sit down onto the bed, noticing the rumpled sheets. Satya must’ve just woken up and the thought makes Hana take a closer look at the Vishkar employee. While both of them are wearing their nightclothes, Hana’s hair is mostly mussed up from the odd positions she held when gaming, whereas Satya’s – who always looks perfectly straight and positioned – now seems to have been slightly attacked by the humidity in the air, the ends curling slightly upwards.

She takes a minute to try and ground herself, with her hand still clasped with the Satya’s it’s a little easier and when the other woman takes a seat next to her, Hana’s vision is almost fully back to normal, though the ringing in her ears – when did that happen? – still persisted and made it difficult to focus on anything the other than her pulse hammering through her veins.

Maybe that’s why she starts when Satya suddenly opens one of the drawers on her night-desk, her hand reaching down to rummage through the small various knickknacks that it likely held. With her seemingly finding what she was looking for, she pulls out a small pair of nail-paints, one a deep cobalt blue and the other a strikingly soft pink.

The smile on her face is gentle, just the slight raising of the corners and lies more in the gaze she keeps locked with Hana’s. Gently releasing her hand, she gingerly places the small bottles onto the bedsheets all the while she’s still keeping Hana’s attention focused on her.

“Now, would you like me to apply the pink or the blue one?”

It takes a moment for the softly spoken words to even register within Hana’s mind, when finally going through she startles slightly before redirecting her line of sight down to the sheets where their crossed feet were slightly overlapping within the limited space of the bed.

She instantly takes a liking to the pink – of course she does, in every shade or nuance she absolutely loves the colour – and she picks it up to inspect it a little closer in the limited light. It’s really nice, and not just the gentle glow that almost emits from the nail polish, but also the act of her focusing on something as simple as choosing her favourite. It feels almost silly in a way, that just doing this could help redirect her haunting thoughts, but now the ghosts were naught but an echoing memory in the back of her mind. Manageable.

Grinning, she hands the bottle to the other woman, who in turn just accepts it and starts prepping with the same straight and precise movements as if she never left the battlefield. A small towel on top of the sheets in case of any spilling, shoving the night table a bit away from the bed so that the bottles could stand on top, small immaculate and perfectly executed routines.

As Hana watches, she finds that the dull throb from her wounds have lessened marginally, maybe I’d been about her muscles tensing or something the like that Angela would’ve probably been able to explain in a lot more words than that. However right now, just the gentle glow mapping out the outline of her teammate is enough to calm her posture and knock her down a notch from her self-worrying.

Wait, she’d left the stream on.

Moving to stand up from the bed, she almost trips and falls, if not for the quick hand darting out in half-worry and half-question to latch onto her wrist. Her face is comically red when she realizes how long she’s kept her fans waiting with the loading screen of the ancient game.

“I forgot the stream!” she squeaks out, somewhat unsure if she really wants to go back and leave this companionable atmosphere.

“It has already been taken care of.” Comes the sudden voice from overhead, turned down to suit the late hours, the AI is speaking softly through the speakers.

“Athena- What-?”

“I have made sure to copy your usual speaks-routine when shutting down your live feeds Hana, there is no cause for worry. I assured your fans that you only needed some rest, to I can guess that agent Symmetra shares my opinion concerning the matter.”

Even with gratitude flowing through her veins at the comfort, she can’t help the small muttered insult escaping her tongue in playful jest. It is after all, a part of her role to occasionally play the impudent brat at headquarters. Not that she really minds.

Sitting back down with a pout, she places her hand palm-down onto the towel. Her eyes follow the precise movement of Satya opening the small container and making the small brush only hold just _so_ of the liquid.

As Hana watches, Satya takes the chance to strike up a bit of small-talk to fill up the silence. Not, that the silence is uncomfortable or strained, but the mellow sound of their conversation is still more favourable. Hana’s eyes are focused on watching Satya’s small strokes on top of her short nails, the slight chill that settles under her skin at the touch of the nail polish makes her involuntarily shiver.

It’s like, cold comfort (Hana lets out a snort of air at that, though she doubts that Satya notices) and she’s actually slightly surprised that it’s _working_.

She takes a few long-drawn breaths of air, it’s nice, she thinks to herself. Lifting her hand to inspect Satya’s surely impeccable work, she notices that there’s a slight shimmer of silver within the flecks of pink and taking a few more moments to admire the work, she starts blowing softly at the coat while giving Satya her other hand to work on.

Time passes, topics dwindle down to silly stories about their teammates – including Junkrat’s attempt at playing the trust-game with every teammate willing, including the more sceptical Satya, the recounting makes Hana laugh when the seemingly simple game escalated with the extended addition of a ‘trust hug’ which entailed that Junkrat had run around with Satya in his arms for fifteen minutes. Seemingly none of the others had taken pity on the terrified Satya, until Junkrat wanted to attempt to see if he could leap to the roof while carrying her.

Hana also waves her free hand around excitedly as she talks about the others, mimicking accents and expressions but when she accidentally swings her arm out in an arc a little too fast, she pulls at the offended wound and she forces herself not to crumble in on herself in pain.

Satya is quick to react, the drowsy atmosphere lifting with her swiftly putting away the nail-polish and reaching across to grab Hana’s hand to stop her from pressing it against the wound. “You’ll only aggravate it further.”

“’m fine.” Hana tries to argument, a mild Korean swear tumbling past her lips as the healing wound throbs slightly. “I need the meds but I always fall asleep right after and I don’t feel like it.”

“This is not the time to be stubborn.” Though the words are meant to scold, Satya looks like anything but angry, worried, more like. “I should make sure that you get some sleep, but I doubt that I’m the correct person to try and convince you, not to mention carry.”

There’s an unsure silence, with Hana attempting to convince Satya that no, nobody else needs to know through the pout on her lips and the biggest puppy-dog eyes she can manage in her pained state. After a few moments she actually thinks that she’s broken the architect, when the speakers above turn on and the AI addresses the room once again.

“I have already informed him.” Athena comments from above, “He will bring your medication Hana, do make sure to take the right dosage this time, too small a dosage will matter little against the pain.”

Another, albeit a bit cruder sentence in Korean sounds from the gamer, not specifically mad, but more sulking since she’s been hoping to avoid that specific character tonight. But she supposes that it couldn’t be avoided forever, flopping back onto the limited space of the bed behind her, she winces at the pull but keeps her gaze fixated onto the spots that litter the ceiling.

The door whizzes open and Hana lets out a sigh, knowing who it is.

“Hana,” his voice is rough, sleep-worn and she feels a pang of guilt for her silly endeavours having dragged him out of bed. “You alright?”

“Hey dad.” she mutters under her breath, not feeling like looking at him right now. “I’m ok.”

That makes him scoff, a puff of air vocalizing his doubt in her words. Maybe he’s smiling, maybe scowling, Hana doesn’t care and doesn’t want to know. The ceiling is providing plenty of entertainment, oh yes.

Though the charade is over when 76 walks over to place a hand on her knee, propping the bottle of pills right by her head. “Forgot these.”

“Don’t care.” Comes the curt reply, bratty, from Hana as she keeps her stare fixated upwards, knowing that those damn blue eyes and their dadliness will convince her in no time to give in to their worries. 

Nevertheless, she accepts the mute offering of her meds and the glass of water to flush them down with while still keeping her eyes focused anywhere but at her companions. When the deed is done and she has accepted that she’ll likely pass out within the next few minutes, she just flops back down onto Satya’s sheets, well aware that that she can’t sleep in here.

She just doesn’t care right that moment, a bit annoyed at the obvious conspiracy that ran unsaid between her companions.

Some sort of conversation must happen between Satya and the old soldier, because between one moment and the next, Hana is airborne within 76’s arms. Though a squeak of protest is all that she vocalizes, a pout settling on her features as she crosses her arms defiantly while being carried out of Satya’s room.

But it seems that 76 has aplenty to say. “I’m just going to guess that you didn’t tell Angela about this because you thought that the others needed her attention more. Which isn’t really true anymore, since Mccree and Reinhardt have each been put down with enough drugs to knock out a bull.”

Taking her silence as confirmation, he continues on. “So with the simple healing of Angela’s caduceous staff, you just told her that you needed painkillers for some scrapes and kept the rest to yourself.”

That, she at the very least drops the pout at, opting to just lean back against his collarbone. Finally letting her exhaustion show, Hana feels the shivers clamper through her frame. “I’m ok.”

“I know.” 76 assures her, “But that doesn’t stop me, Athena or Satya from worrying when we see you like this.”

They have reached her quarters, the doors slide open without prompt – likely another small gesture from the resident AI, and 76 sits down onto the bed without letting Hana out of his embrace,

“I just don’t want to keep all of you focused on something this minor.” Hana closes her eyes. The darkness hidden behind her lids free from haunting imagery. “I can take it.”

“We know.” A hand carding through her messy hair. Her sense of reality is slowly slipping, exhaustion taking over. “We know, but we care for you, all of us.”

A tear sneaks past her lashes, the trail both hot and cold on her dulled senses. She’s falling asleep.

Nuzzling herself a little closer to 76’s chest, she lets the calm beat of his heart be her focal point.

Hana’s voice is hoarse and sounds distant when she speaks, meds giving her a few seconds before fully surrendering to unconsciousness.

“Thanks dad.”

**Author's Note:**

> My maternal instincts are kicking in for a girl that is my own age *looks into the distance* what have this silly fandom made me. 
> 
> Anyways, you're always welcome to chat me up on [my tumblr ](http://costumebleh.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Here's also the incredible piece [thanks, dad. love, hana](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7328341)
> 
> Also [the nerd behind it, that definitely deserves all the belated birthday wishes.](http://snowsheba.tumblr.com/) Seriously, go spam her inbox with cake.


End file.
